


That Love Hate Thing

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Kinks, Knife Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-16
Updated: 2009-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: No plot, just an excuse for some hot dominating Dean and Sam loving.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** My friend asked me for a dominated Sam and this is what she got. Sentences that are in * * are Sam's thoughts

  
Author's notes: Remember, phrases inside * * are Sam's thoughts  


* * *

That Love Hate Thing

 

 

The hotel room door slammed hard behind them.

 

"I was this close Sammy." Dean stated in a voice that never failed to make his brother wary. "This fucking close." Dean emphasised his point with his thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart right under Sam's nose. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Dean was not yelling although Sam really wished that he was. 

 

You see if Dean were yelling that would mean that they were on even ground. That would mean that the emotions were boiling to the surface, anger clouding judgement, if only just a bit. Sam wished that Dean would yell and rant and throw his hands in the air, hell take a fucking swing at him!

 

Anything but this. 

 

"I don't know what I was thinking Dean." Ok that was not exactly what he had intended to say. Ok fuck exactly. That was not what Sam wanted to say at all. He had thought up a whole boat lode of reasons for what he had done, some were plausible, some even sounded really good. Hell, Sam had almost convinced himself that one or two of them were true. Under ordinary circumstances Sam would have snapped back with the best of them. 

 

These were not ordinary circumstances.

 

*Well why the fuck not?* Sam inwardly asked himself. He shifted his stance, anger flooding up with his new found reasoning. He was about to say.....something...when Dean..... smiled at him.

 

"I don't know what I was thinking." Dean repeated.

 

Ok, that's why the fuck not.

 

Dean spoke the words very calmly. Someone listening in might have even passed it off as regular conversation. But it scared the shit out of Sam. He hated himself for it, but he actually got a chill when Dean threw back his own words. You see his older brother was mad, furious actually, but unlike his normal angry state in which Sam knew so well, Dean was in control of his anger. Absolute. Bone chilling. Control. Or so it would appear. Dean's usual temper was a force to be reckoned with. But this...this was something else, something that the younger man had not seen before. That in itself was frightening, the fact was that he and Dean had shared more of each other in their 'everyday' lives than most would even consider under duress. The look in Dean's eyes did nothing to calm his little brother's concerns.

 

Sam almost found it amusing that his older brother despised open displays of emotion almost to the point of paranoia, yet this one particular emotion seemed to flow from him as naturally as rain from the sky. He wanted to point out that anger was an emotion and he was easily sharing it, but took one look at his brother and thought that now was just sooo not the right time. 

 

*Store that nugget for use at a later date, that is so good!*

 

Dean stood in the dingy hotel room not moving, just staring at Sam. His face was bathed in pale blue light from the neon sign outside their window that advertised rooms by the hour and 'specialty channels'. Ordinarily it would have been a very attractive pose, but now it only seemed to enhance the almost predatory look on his ironically expressionless face. 

 

*How the fuck did Dean do that anyway?*

 

Sam realised he must have been standing there for an unknown period of time just looking stupid when his brother repeated, in his wonderfully new emotionless voice that conveyed so much of how he was feeling that it was almost a physical force.

 

"I don't know what I was thinking." 

 

*And just how the fuck does he do that?* Sam thought to himself. Dean was the personification of anger at this particular moment. Normal Dean (ha! ha!.... Dean normal! ) was not the most stable individual. He took way too many stupid chances, did and said things that even he knew would only cause more problems, he got off on pain, drank too much, drove too fast, practically had a sexual relationship with his car, ate greasy food like he wanted to have a heart attack, laughed at things that, honest to God, were in no way funny in any universe that Sam could even conceive of, started bar fights for the sole purpose of...well getting into a bar fight, fucked his baby brother, handled emotional situations like his dick was on fire, had a ridiculous lack of knowledge about acceptable social etiquette, fucked his baby brother, had an ego so big it had it's own satellites yet hated himself with the virulence that he usually saved for the supernatural, had a peculiar way of interpreting people's ordinary decisions like 'soup or salad' into a conscious choice about the fate of the world, and... oh yeah, did I mention that he fucked his baby brother? The list went on.

 

But that was Dean. 

 

The Dean that stood before Sam now so cold and calculative that Sam would never again be able to think of Ares, the God of war, without picturing how his brother looked at this exact moment. He knew the look from their many hunts together. He never expected that look to be turned on him. Sam felt as if Dean was a ticking time bomb and he was the one screaming "red wire or yellow wire!'

 

*Note to self: examine the whole how the fuck does he do that thing at a later date*

 

Dean let out what Sam supposed was a chuckle and turned away from him shaking his head, running both hands through his bristly hair. It was so ordinary and calm. Yet it wasn't. Sam had a mental image of a clock counting down backwards 42,41,40,39...He wanted to say something, do something, but the only thing running through his head was 'red wire or yellow wire!' Sam felt like he was five years old.

 

*Fuck that.*

 

No way was Sam going to let Dean treat him this way. For what anyway? The reason for this whole 'stupid arrogant macho intimidating display' was lost to him as anger once again welled up inside him. "What the fuck do you want from me Dean? Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness is that it? Or how about I just stand here and appreciate your grand wisdom! I bet you would just love it if I mindlessly obeyed you like a good little soldier!" Dean whipped around like a cobra striking out at its prey.

 

Boom! 

 

Oops, wrong wire.

 

Dean literally vibrated. His nostrils flared in and out and his fists clenched open and closed at his sides. What he said next was anything but what Sam was expecting.

 

"Why do you hate me so much?" His voice was emotionless....only...not.

 

"W-W-What..?" Sam heard the shakiness in his voice and couldn't find it in himself to care. Did Dean really think that he could hate him? He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that there was a bigger bomb here. 38,37,36,35...

 

"Go ahead Sammy, take a swing." Dean's voice was still steady.

 

"Dean I...I..." *I what? What the fuck!* 34,33,32,31... Sam couldn't find the words. He knew that Dean was teetering precariously on the rim of losing it. 30,29,28,27... He had to do something or this was going to get a whole lot worse. Once again he was trying to figure out how to 'disarm' the situation, red wire (meaning sex) or yellow wire (meaning violence). 26,25,24,23... Sam threw himself forward. His mouth hit his brothers so hard that both of their lips split. Dean's hands were on him in an instant, one hand pulling his hair, the other wrapping firmly around his brother’s throat. The kiss was hard and cold and tasted like adrenaline sweat and blood. As quickly as Sam had jumped forward he pulled himself back.

 

And then punched his brother in the face. 

 

Sam wasn't even aware of his intentions until it was too late. Ridiculously all he could think at the time was 'guess it's the orange wire.'

 

Dean staggered slightly with a step to the side, his chin almost sitting on his shoulder from the force of Sam's blow. He just stood there like that for...ever? Sam could see Dean's chest rising and falling violently and his hands still clenching at his sides, eyes closed. Sam braced himself in a fighting posture, not sure what Dean intended to do next.

 

Dean just stood there.

 

Sam could feel his own rage boiling with his brother's. He was ready (sort of) for whatever his brother was going to do. He had no illusions, he knew his brother, and if there was one thing that Dean did not only do well but at every opportunity that presented itself, it was fight. 

 

Dean finally moved. Not the quick strike that Sam had been bracing himself for, but very slow and calculated. He turned his head forward, eyes still closed while rubbing his jaw where his brother's fist had been just moments before. When he was finally facing forward he dropped his arm to the side and opened his eyes, staring coldly at his brother. He ginned. Not a smile, not a smirk, but an almost evil glowering grin. Sam noticed that there was something else in that look too, but couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

 

"So little brother." Dean started as he continued to grin evilly. Dean's tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip tasting the blood. "That's how you want to play this."

 

*Oh shit* 

 

Sam now recognised that other unnamed expression that filled his brothers face. He knew that Dean had a bizarre kink for pain, but they had not explored that particular fetish to date. He didn't think that this was the situation that he would choose to explore it either, not with his brother so obviously angry. He knew what Dean was capable of doing, not only to others, but to himself as well. Sam was pretty sure that he was not capable of doing those things to him. Pretty sure. *Guess I'm gonna find out.* he thought to himself. He wasn't sure which bothered him more, his brother's current emotional instability or the fact that his jeans now seemed a little bit tighter.

 

Dean's punch came hard and fast. Sam had been slightly distracted by his ' jeans ' and was thrown back into the wall. Dean was on him in an instant pushing his bleeding mouth onto his brother's. Sam responded immediately (and so did his jeans) pressing his own lips even harder onto Dean's, despite the sting. Teeth hit teeth and their tongues duelled for dominance as hands groped, pressed and squeezed. Hard. Sam's hands gripped Dean's back just above the hip bones as Dean grabbed his brother’s hair roughly in one hand as the other found its way down to his partner’s ass. The kiss continued, rough and unrelenting until Dean bit down on Sam's lower lip. Not a nibble or a love bite, he bit him hard. Sam pulled away, his head hitting the wall with a loud thunk.

 

"What the fuck Dean!" he started to protest until he felt something cold and sharp up against his throat. He had no idea when Dean had pulled his knife.

 

"Shut up." Dean growled in a low demanding voice as he pressed the weapon just a little harder against his brother’s neck. Sam thought about saying all sorts of things to his brother, ' go fuck yourself ' being on the top of the list, but he knew just how sharp Dean kept his blades. He decided it was for the best if he just kept his mouth fucking shut. Of course that was only because he wanted to, just to see where his brother was going with this. It was in no way due to his earlier thoughts on Dean's mental stability. Deep down Sam knew that Dean would never hurt him (well nothing life threatening anyway) but a knife to your throat had a way of persuading you.

 

Dean never took his eyes off Sam as he took the knife from his throat and began slowly running it down the younger man's chest, cutting a line down the thin t-shirt and leaving a long red welt line.

 

Sam remained completely still, staring into his brother's wild eyes. The only light in the small room was the ominous blue glow of the motel sign, but Sam could still see that Dean's eyes were blown wide. A strange combination of anger and lust that Sam just couldn't bring himself to look away from. He felt the knife below his belly button and heard the soft rip as the last bit of material at the bottom of his shirt gave way to steel. The knife didn't stop moving down. Sam stifled a gasp as he felt the knife come to rest in the middle of the zipper on his jeans. Another evil smile crept across Dean's face as he started to rub the flat side of the knife against the obvious bulge. Sam's mind wanted to scream in protest, but his lower mind disagreed.

 

"Looks like I'm not the only one who has some kinks there Sammy." Dean cood in Sam's ear as he continued to lewdly rub the metal against Sam's crotch. 

 

Sam wanted to tell him to fuck off, but God damnit if he wasn't right. He was surprised at just how much this was turning him on. He was sure that if it was anyone other that Dean doing this to him he would be freaking out. He was also sure that his brother knew it too. *Cocky prick.* He really wanted to say that out loud, but instead he just stood there and let Dean run his knife over his most sensitive area, listening to the faint rasping noises of the blade against his zipper.

 

"Take off your coat." Dean demanded. He didn't even give Sam a chance to respond before he punched him in the side of the head. "I said take it off!"

 

*Go fuck yourself you arrogant prick!* Sam silently obeyed. He hated Dean. And he hated his stupid traitorous dick. The coat barely had time to slip from his shoulders before Dean roughly ripped the remains of Sam's shirt off and threw the tattered pieces roughly to the floor.

 

"Take off your pants.” Again, Sam wanted to protest, he was almost a bit surprised to find himself in the process of taking off his pants. It seemed that his traitorous dick had gained some allies. He threw off his shoes and slipped off his boxers with his jeans and kicked both items of clothing to the side. He hated himself for it but he was sure that if he didn't Dean would have told him to and he would have done it anyway. No need to inflate Dean's ego any more than necessary. 

 

"You're right Sammy." Dean waited for the questioning look on his brother’s face. "I do love it when you obey me like a good little soldier."

 

* COCK SUCKING MOTHER FUCKING ARROGANT BASTARD!!!!!!!!!!!!! * Sam said nothing.

 

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and spun him around violently, slamming him hard into the wall. He pressed into Sam until his mouth was almost on his brother’s ear and whispered "But I think I like this better." Sam could hear the cocky grin in his older brother's voice.

 

That was it! Sam began to struggle, but Dean jerked his arm up his back and Sam stopped. He began to think of all the ways that he was going to make. Dean. PAY!

 

Dean began to kiss and suckle at Sam's neck gently while one hand grabbed his brother's hard cock and started stroking. "Pretend all you want little brother..." Kiss, nip, lick, suck. "I know you are enjoying yourself." He bit down hard on Sam's shoulder, and then proceeded to lick up the small pool of blood that was forming, all the while softly stroking the now incredibly hard shaft in his hand.

 

Sam had never had a nickname for his dick. He did now. It was Benedict Arnold. Sam cursed himself at the thought. He would now involuntarily think of his cock as 'Benny'.

 

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard Sammy." Sam unwillingly shuttered as he heard the familiar sound of Dean undoing his button flies. 

 

*Where the fuck did the knife go? Scratch that, don't wanna know.*

 

Sam's eyes were closed. He was stirred out of his thought by the feel of two fingers pressing firmly in his mouth.

 

"Make it good, it's all you're gonna get." Sam wanted to ignore his brother just to spite him, but he had a feeling that he was gonna need all the lubrication that he could. He practically gobbed on Dean's fingers."That's right Sammy..." Dean cooed as he withdrew his fingers from his brother's mouth. "Gonna fuck you right into this wall. You’re gonna feel it for a week." Without further preamble he thrust both fingers into Sam's ass. Sam let out a loud hiss at the force of the intrusion. Dean began slowly stoking in and out, giving his partner a bit of time to adjust. The rhythm of his fingers worked in sync with his hand's up and down motion. "Hate me all you want, but we both know that you are enjoying this." Dean squeezed Sam's hard cock to drive the point home.

 

*Fucking bastard* Sam wasn't sure if the thought was directed at his brother or his dick. He felt the now perversely familiar feel of Dean's knife at his throat again. *Where the fuck??????????*

 

"Don't move"

 

Sam relaxed as much as possible as he felt the tip of his brother's dick against his ass. It was much easier than he ever could have imagined considering he was plastered up against a wall with a knife to his throat and had only a minimal amount of spit lube and even less time to 'loosen up'. He would never think of himself as a freak again. It was way too timid. Sick perverted fuck seemed more appropriate. He had expected Dean's cock to ram into him with the same force as his fingers had, but to his surprise (and disappointment? Sick perverted fuck!) Dean pushed into him slowly. 

 

Even in his state of rage and lust Dean could not bring himself to hurt his brother. Too much.

 

Dean pushed himself slowly into the tight heat of Sam's ass until he was buried to the hilt. A lustful groan filled the room. Neither of them knew which one of them had made the sound. Both hoped that it had been the other. 

 

"Fuck you are so tight..." Dean half whispered as he started slowly pumping in and out. Sam found himself straining to stay still. He wanted to push his hips back, urge his brother to pick up the pace. He knew that he should have been ashamed of the urge, probably would be later, but right now he just couldn't bring himself to care. He was just so fucking turned on! "Oh God yeah Sammy, so tight." Apparently his brother was too.

 

Dean once again began softly sucking and kissing at Sam's neck. Sam felt the pressure on his throat ease and he was lost in the sensations of his brother being so gentle yet forceful. He let out a moan as his head fell backward. Dean stopped and slammed the side of Sam's head into the wall. 

 

"What part of don't move don't you understand." His words were low, yet no less threatening. He pressed his brother's head into the wall for just a moment longer, then let his hand slip back onto Sam's dick and continued stroking. And sucking. And Fucking. *Oh. My. God!* Sam just proved himself wrong in his ideas that things between him and his brother couldn't possibly get more fucked up because that was so. Incredibly. Hot!

 

Dean began moving faster as Sam stayed perfectly still, pinned to the wall. The sounds of groans and heavy breathing filled the room, rising quickly in volume and urgency. Sam could feel his brother's breath hot and hard on his ear. "Oh God Sam...” Pant. Gasp. Groan "...fucking... ohh... God..."

 

Sam knew Dean was as close as he felt but didn't dare to move. He felt the familiar tingle in his balls and his toes began to curl into the dirty shag carpet. He also still felt the now warm steel against his throat. He had never been so turned on in his entire life.

 

"God Sammy...you're so...Ohohoh....Fuckggggrrrhhppphhht." Dean fell forward onto Sam still pumping, doing exactly what he had promised. Fucking Sam into the wall. Literally. Even in his throes of pleasure he never lost control of the weapon he held on his brother.

 

It was just too much. Sam lost himself in his own orgasm, shooting hot come all over the wall, himself and Dean's hand. It was the most intense orgasm he had ever had in his entire life. 

 

*Sick perverted fuck.*

 

Dean let the knife drop to his side and they stayed there for several moments gasping for air before Dean pulled himself out of his brother. He reached down and grabbed Sam's t-shirt rag and wiped off his hands, then buttoned himself up and threw the shirt back on the floor, not bothering to offer it to Sam. Sam turned around and stared at Dean who had reverted right back to pissed off mode. 

 

Dean could be such an amazing asshole. Sam was suddenly very self conscious of the fact that he was standing naked except for his socks and Dean was fully clothed. Hell, he still had his jacket on. "What the fuck Dean." He hated the way it came out sounding like he had, well, just been fucked into a wall. 

 

"Sorry what?" Dean said casually, but still managed to come off like an insufferable prick.

 

"What the fuck was that Dean?" Sam repeated, this time with a little more force.

 

"Oh, sorry Sam I...” He grinned. That evil cocky ' I just fucked your wife and your daughter at the same time' sinister smile “I don't know what I was thinking." 

 

A small nuclear arsenal exploded in Sam's head. And then Dean walked out the door.

 

Dean was so going to pay.


End file.
